


Things Unsaid

by Lazarusmycroft



Series: Series three from my POV [2]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, One sided JohnLock, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarusmycroft/pseuds/Lazarusmycroft





	Things Unsaid

Three months had passed since Sherlock had reappeared in John's life telling him he had faked his death and spent two years undercover dismantling Moriarty's network. John and Mary were engaged now and in the middle of planning their wedding that would take place in the spring and Sherlock was back to his business of being a consulting detective. It was certainly nice to be back in London, back at Baker Street, but Sherlock had never felt more alone than he did now. Two years in hiding, sleeping rough most of the time, captured and kept isolated in a prison cell and yet it somehow could not compare to the way he felt now. Alone and lonely were two very different things, something Sherlock Holmes never expected to understand, now, unfortunately, it was all too clear to him.

He had always lived alone in his rooms at Baker Street and quite honestly that had always been by design, Sherlock just could not understand people and human nature, he never felt compelled to have constant companionship or companionship at all for that matter...until he met John. John had become the one fixed point in his tumultuous life of chasing dangerous criminal masterminds and Sherlock could honestly say that he had not realised how much the ex-army doctor had meant to him until he was forced to live without him. Although John visited almost every day, 221B just felt...different somehow. 

Well, it couldn't be helped, Sherlock shook himself mentally and went back to inspecting the slides under his microscope which contained fibers from a wool coat that were found under the fingernails of a recent murder victim. A short while later Sherlock heard the sound of foot steps on the stairs, from the creaking of the steps and the obvious gait of the visitor he was able to deduce (unhappily) that it was his brother, Mycroft. Mycroft had been visiting quite a lot lately and Sherlock was becoming more and more chuffed by it, although he could easily see right through his brother and knew his exact reason for visiting. Mycroft worried about Sherlock "constantly", to use his own word.

"Brother, dear." Said Sherlock without ever glancing up from his slides. "To what do I owe this....pleasure?"

Mycroft smiled, "Always so confrontational, little brother. I'm here to follow up on our conversation from a few days earlier, do you remember my advice, Sherlock?"

Sherlock scowled as he stood up abruptly to walk into the sitting room and away from Mycroft. "Of course I remember your unwanted advice, Mycroft. And, as I said the other day, I am not involved. I am going to be John's best man in his wedding because he asked me to and I think after all I have put him through it is the very least I could do. Don't you agree?"

Mycroft idly twirled his umbrella as he observed his younger brother standing near the windows. "You and I both know there is much more going on here, Sherlock, you may have everyone else fooled. I know better. You are also aware that John's future wife has something secret in her past, do not be blinded Sherlock. Good day." Mycroft headed toward the door but before leaving he simply turned and said, "Redbeard."

Sherlock stood staring out at the grey London afternoon for some time before he was interrupted again, this time it was by the exact person of whom he had been thinking. John Watson. 

"Sherlock? Are you ok? I've been texting and I even called you, I was worried."

"Hmmm? Oh, no I- I've just been busy. A case."

"A case? What is it?" John asked as he crossed to sit in his chair by the fire, he still felt a bit giddy every time he came here and saw Sherlock truly alive, not a dream. It was still all a bit unbelievable.

"Oh, it's nothing overly taxing, just a woman murdered by her boss, with whom she was having an affair. She refused to leave her husband for him so he asphyxiated her and dumped her body in the Thames. Simple,crime of passion, not really that interesting, just passing time."

"Oh, right, ok, so listen I wanted to talk to you about-about, well, the wedding. As best man you are going to have to give a speech. It's no-". Before he could finish Sherlock cut him off.

" I understand my duties as best man completely, John, contrary to popular belief I do, in fact, have some knowledge of silly traditions. Listen, John, there is something I have wanted to tell you since I've come back to London...I...uh..." Sherlock trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words, which was startling since that was something that never happened. After a brief pause he looked over at John and continued.  
"I think you should tell Mary that...that...the shade of lavender she chose for the bride's maids dresses is atrocious and she should go back to the lilac we had originally chosen." 

John was silent for a moment as he tried to understand what was going on because he was certain that that was not what Sherlock had originally intended to say but having known the man for some years now he knew that he would never get whatever he meant to say unless Sherlock wanted him to. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two, then John stood and claimed he had to get to the clinic, saying he would phone later

Sherlock stood looking down on Baker Street and watched as John hailed a cab. He silently chided himself for not saying the words he had wanted so badly to say. How hard was it to just say what you meant? "Come home, John." "I can't stand not having you by my side constantly, John." "I love you, John." Taking a deep breath he stepped away from the window to pick up his violin and hopefully calm himself a bit by composing. 

In a few months time John and Mary would be married, Sherlock would continue existing in this solitary way and there would continue to be volumes of words that were left unsaid. It would be too late, it probably already was.


End file.
